Dancing Shoes
by Lemurian-Girl
Summary: Alone and abandoned, with no money and a little brother to care for, Tethys would have never survived, had she not seen that one dancer on the street corner. oneshot


**Dancing Shoes**

"Hungwy! Hungwy Tethy!" With his face as red as his hair, little Ewan began to cry. His stomach ached with emptiness. As he was barely reaching the age of three, he could barely comprehend the situation they were facing. All he knew was that Mommy was gone, gone like the Daddy that disappeared at his birth.

"Shh…" Tethys tried to soothe him, but his wails only grew louder. Fat droplets ran down his face and onto the raggedy brown coat he wore. As their days on the streets became a permanent reality, their clothes were wearing thin, and their stomachs were growing emptier. What little she could scrounge from under the window sills of more fortunate folk was barely enough to nourish the two of them. Besides, most of the food was rotten, and Tethys was still used to the few luxuries that her old home offered, unlike the other street children, who gladly snatched up the tidbits.

Luxuries…ha. She had barely considered them blessings in her old home. With her mother and brother, she shared a one room loft above a tailor's shop. It was crowded and grungy with rats running freely across the rafters. Her whole life, Tethys had watched the other children munch on cakes and eat roasted meat for supper, her own bowl of watery broth cooling in her hands.

Oh, how she would love a bowl of hot broth now, especially as the bitter wind whipped past her, nipping at her nose and cheeks.

Ewan's sobs eventually ceased as his pangs brought him to sleep. Tethys pulled the small boy up into her arms. In his sleep, one hand automatically slipped around her neck while the other's thumb was thrust into his mouth. He was a lightweight child, little more than the skin hanging off his bones.

Tethys was like that too. She could hardly be considered a beautiful child. Her legs were too long and lanky, and her skin stretched too tightly over her gaunt cheekbones. The fiery red mess that was her hair never gave her a moment's peace, as it either was obstructing her vision or snarling into a tangled knot. Grime and soot marred her body, and her eyes, which were supposed to be fresh with youth, were sunken and dim.

Ewan snuggled his head deeper into her neck. At least he had a source of comfort in her. His tight grasp on her filled her with warmth, replacing the desolation which had once been there. For Ewan's sake, she had to find some type of work. Through her previous attempts, she had found that no one wanted an unskilled, dirty street rat for a worker. There was always some pretty and sweet village girl to fill that position.

Tethys had been wandering the dark alleys of the slums for an hour. As she neared the limits, where the ghetto passed on to the vibrant nightlife, the strains of music reached her ears. How she loved music. Every night, before her mother pushed her off to bed, she would sit at that single window in their home and listen to the bands. Waltzes and minuets blurred together with the light, merry tunes of local folk songs and country music, creating a new, distinct symphony.

With a glance down at the sleeping Ewan in her arms, Tethys decided to go for it. She would amble into the downtown and venture a peek at the midnight scene. If Ewan awoke, she would quickly retreat back into the shadowed safety of the back streets. With a deep breath, she crossed that imaginary line and was instantly immersed in the music, the people, and the action.

Most of the people there were drunk, but they did not scare Tethys much. She was used to their intoxicated presence. She shuffled past them, without so much as glance spared towards her. Ewan shook a little in his slumber, but for the most part, he remained as inanimate as he was before.

Out on the street corner, a woman caught Tethys' eye. A small flute band played behind her, and she danced to their tune. Her costume was extremely flamboyant. Every shade of green was represented in the mixed spectrum of her skirt. A silver pendant hung from her neck and gleamed in the moonlight. Her hair seemed to come from the feathers of a raven, and it was pulled up with a brass barrette. Her face was painted to match her uniform, though she did not appear to be one of those horrid "ladies of the night" her mother had warned her against.

The melody of the band increased in tempo suddenly. She skipped to the tune, and with a graceful pirouette, she slowed with as the music came to a dramatic retardando. Even as the volume lowered with a decrescendo, she maintained her one-footed stance and bowed towards the ground, as though to scoop it up from the earth. The music waned and eventually the players removed their instruments from their lips.

In one fluid motion, the dancer stood up straight and then bowed. Tethys was not sure why no one was watching such a talented performer. A passing man tossed a lone coin into a hat at the fifer's boots. Suddenly, Tethys' attention was drawn to this garment lying on the ground. That one coin would bring all sorts of relief to Ewan and her, yet that dancer scowled at it disdainfully.

With a sigh from the dancer, another song began, a graver tune. Tethys watched once more in fascination as the woman twirled and pranced. Her footwork was intricate, yet she made it seem so simple. Her arms grasped the ends of a verdant ribbon, and she used it as a prop in her routine. The sash fluttered gracefully through the air with her movements. It flapped as she whipped it about; it was not savage in its movements but fluid.

Tethys gently set Ewan down on the ground. He moaned a little and reached for the warmth of her body, but he eventually settled down on the hard ground.

Tethys watched the dancer out of the corner of her eye. She tried to stand on her toes, as the dancer did, but she could barely hold the position for a moment before her heels clash back onto the firm land. She attempted again, but once more, she lost her balance.

A few feet behind her, there was the front wall of a pub. Every other minute or so, someone would burst in or stagger out, but no one seemed to notice that Tethys was there. She placed her hand on the brick and mortar to poise herself. Then, she pushed herself up on tiptoe. By no means was this a comfortable position, and she could hardly count as appearing as elegant or polished as the dancer on the street corner. Still, it was an improvement.

Tethys withdrew her hand from the wall and tried to keep the posture. She even waved her arms about like a fool. Though she still fell back, she was able to hold it for a few flickering moments, an improvement. She tried again, with similar results.

That entire night, she practiced the pose. A few times, she was able to hold it successfully; others, her attempts fell flat. As she stumbled back to her home, little Ewan in her grasp, her feet ached, especially her toes. She was not sure if she was during any of it correctly, but she still felt extremely proud of herself.

As she made a bed for herself on in the damp corner of some forgotten alley, her thoughts revolved solely around the dance. The thought of a potential source of income comforted her, so much that she forgot she was on a pillow of scrap and dreamed she was sleeping on a bed of silk.

Day came too soon, and Tethys had no choice but to return to the job of scrounging through refuse to find a suitable meal. Beggars were not sympathized in this town, and not even children were spared a lick of compassion. There were far too many for that. Ewan stumbled behind her, sniffing and pouting. By the end of her morning rounds, Tethys had accumulated a few crusts of bread and the scrapings left in a tossed jar of jam. While she savored the rare sweetness of the jelly, Ewan stuffed his meal down quickly.

"Thank you, Tethy," he said. Behind his back, he hid his hands. Tethys tried to look around him, but he only giggled and darted so that whatever he was concealing stayed out of view. With a mighty "Ta da!", he presented her with a ratty scarf. Tethys took it in her hands, running her fingers over the coarse wool. She knew he must have picked it up as she was hunting for scraps that morning.

"Thank you," she murmured, wrapping the faded red scarf around her neck. Ewan seemed very pleased with it, and he beamed up at her. His grin only seemed to place an identical smile on her face. She ruffled his hair, amazed at how her brother could remain so sunny despite their troubles.

That night, Tethys returned to watch the dancer. Luckily for her, the woman was still performing on that same corner. Instead of attempting the difficult poses she had tried the night before, Tethys removed the scarf from around her neck and imitated the fluttering swirls of the ribbon. Hers was full of holes, but it was still usable in its worn condition.

She memorized the repeated hand motions as the ribbon passed from one hand to the other. As she practiced, she would take one section of the routine and constantly echo the motion until it was stuck fast in her head.

The next morning, she practiced after their meager breakfast. Ewan watched her in awe, having been asleep during the previous night's training as well.

"What you doing?" he asked curiously. The scarf soared over her head, and she grasped it with both hands.

"Dancing," she explained, without missing a beat. Ewan's mouthed a silent "o" as he continued to stare in amazement.

"You know what, Tethy? You gotta be the best dancer in da whole world." Ewan stretched out his arms to emphasize his point. His joyful demeanor only encouraged Tethys more.

Every night, she would stand at her post to admire the professional dancer. Every morning, after the morning's scavenge, she would practice what she had learned. Her footsteps became quicker and more in beat; her posture straightened. Tethys' arms flowed with the imaginary rhythm in her mind, staying coordinated with her legs. Though she was not as skillful as her idol, she was becoming better. Though, she was paying the price.

With her late nights, Tethys never received as much sleep as she should have. And she could not deny that her eating habits, though they were no choice of her own, could not supply her with the energy she needed. Her feet were also blistered and bloody, and she had to limp, instead of walk. As her soles of her feet thickened, the soles of her shoes wore through to holes.

But she persisted.

After Tethys had memorized what she could from the street performer, she finally dared to take to the corner herself. She chose to perform in the day, when the crowds would be denser and the competition less fierce. She situated herself near a pub that was loudly playing music, so that she would have to provide the tunes for herself.

"Don't wander off," she warned Ewan. He nodded and took a seat on ground, watching up with sparking eyes as his big sis started her routine.

It was clumsy, but a few glances were cast her way, and someone even dropped a coin in Ewan's lap. He squealed with delight, holding it up to the sunlight to watch the rays bounce off the gold sheen.

A woman paused to examine Tethys' routine. As Tethys bowed at the end of one dance, she looked up and recognized the street corner dancer, sans the flashy costume. Her face was blank, impossible to decipher. Tethys' heart pounded, waiting for a reply.

"Not…bad," the woman mumbled. A surge of glee ran up Tethys. "But-" Her hopes were suddenly slashed. The woman's gaze was directed down towards Tethys' feet. "You're wearing the wrong shoes." Tethys glanced down at her shabby moccasins. Did it matter?

The woman reached back into her bag. In her hands, she had retrieved a pair of flat-toed slippers. She handed them forward to Tethys. At first, Tethys was not sure she could accept the gift, but she eventually took them.

"They might be a bit big, but they'll help," she said. Tethys examined them. They were scruffy but nice. Their shade was a light green, of course, to match the outfit the dancer donned every night. A flowery design ran up the side.

Tethys looked back up to thank the dancer, but she had already disappeared into the hectic shuffle of the crowd, gone from Tethys' presence but never from her thoughts.

----

Author's Note: That idea just suddenly struck me. Not much has been done on Tethys, really. Well, review people! (And this is a one-shot by the way)

I do not own Fire Emblem…blah…blah…bleah…


End file.
